


Taken

by NikonFriend



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Abduction, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anya and Lexa are cousins, Clarke and Lexa endgame for sure, Clarke and Raven are best friends, Clarke is a photographer and a doctor, Clexa, Dark Past, Doctor Clarke, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I am avoiding using some warnings/i dont want to include spoilers, Kidnapped, Kidnapping, Lexa wants to be a writer/journalist, Loss, No major character deaths, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Octavia and Lincoln are obviously together, Other, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clarke, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, There is no Bellarke I promise, Trauma, Violence, abducted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikonFriend/pseuds/NikonFriend
Summary: Lexa Woods was a student with a potential-filled future. Lexa was a commander of change, a beacon of hope for those who had none, and -before her world turned upside-down- filled with life. Then she disappeared. After being declared as a missing person and a 'lost cause' by the North Polis PD, Lexa finds her savior in the form of a brilliant blonde three years later. With the help of Dr. Clarke Griffin, Lexa soon begins to find hope in putting her dark past behind her. But with her own nightmares still lurking in reality, can she really ever return to a 'normal' lifestyle?OrClarke and Lexa begin to find themselves through each other, and through the darkest times in both of their lives, they begin to find a light that neither of them knew could ever exist again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. I know I haven't really updated any of my stories recently at all (I've been ridiculously busy the past few months) but I do promise that they're all still being worked on, especially "Flaws and Scars." I had this idea last night though, and I saw a lot of potential with it and I didn't want to lose the idea, so here we are. I'm actually pretty excited about this fic, so I hope you guys see the same potential that I see! Please feel free to leave a review so I can hear your thoughts on this, thanks all!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own pretty much nothing but the plot and a few additional characters :)

Her breathing was rapid and uneven, as was her heartbeat. Each time her foot made contact with concrete, she felt the sharp, merciless jab of pain in her abdomen. Her lungs were working at their fullest, and her legs seemed to be moving without her even having to think about it. Running was instinctual to her. She's spent her life running in more ways than one, and no matter where life seemed to take her, running -physically running- seemed to be inevitable. Sometimes it was out of fear, sometimes it was out of anger, sometimes it was out of sorrow, and only once had it been out of relief and out of love. Now, though, it was all but the latter. She was running, quite literally for her life. Running away was something she was good at, but avoiding trouble? That was another story. And now, all that she could hope for was to get out of the trouble that always managed to find her. Otherwise, she wouldn't survive for much longer.

She heard the car before she even needed to look over her shoulder. She was almost ready to jump out into the road -to wave down whatever vehicle it was that was headed her direction- but she stopped herself from doing so just in time. She knew that sound -the clanking metal- and as the car got even closer to the bend of the road, she could hear the music pouring out of the windows. She knew that song. It was the fourth song on the CD. She'd heard that disc too many times to count. She knew every word of every god-awful song, and she knew exactly why.

_"Emotion heightens memory,"_ her psychology professor had once told her during her independent study. If only he could see her now, on the run from the man that had terrorized her for god knows how long. He would be disappointed in the way her life had turned out, no doubt. Some time ago, she had been one of the greatest prospects in the class, and now she was living a life that showed no potential.

She turned, wide-eyed and nearly breathless, as she could see the shine of the headlights beginning to lighten the bend. She did the only thing that seemed reasonable and instantly dove to the ground on the side of the road. The heavy underbrush of the woods would -hopefully- come to her advantage. It was dark out, illuminated only by the dim light of the moon, and she knew that he was drunk off his ass. Maybe -if the universe was on her side- the foliage could provide her with enough cover that he wouldn't see her. She rolled farther away from the road, and when she could hear that the old pickup-truck was just about at the bend of the road, she chose to lie still, not even willing to breathe.

She kept her body pressed against the ground, and through the thin sheet of grass and leaves that barely shielded her from the road, she watched as the vehicle rounded the bend. One headlight lit up a little over half of the road, the other one having been broken since before she had even made his unwelcome acquaintance. Thanks to the shattered headlight, her hiding spot remained in the dark. She brought herself to glance into the windshield. He looked absolutely furious, blood dripping from the open gash on his head. His eyes darted toward the darker side of the road, practically right on her, but there was no hint of recognition in his eyes. No micro-expression to tell her that he had even acknowledged that something in her spot looked in any way suspicious. Relief, although only temporary, flooded over her as the truck continued down the road, but she didn't allow herself to move a single muscle until the sound of his music had disappeared entirely. She wasn't willing to even breathe until she was confident that he wasn't going to find her.

Her heart-rate was still rapid, beating twenty times faster than what was normal for her, and she looked around anxiously, as though there might be something in her surroundings that could come to some sort as benefit for her. There was nothing, though. She stood, wincing and letting out a pained hiss as the wound at her side rejected her plan to get up. She clenched her jaw as she pressed a hand against it, and a feeling of hopelessness set upon her as her fingers all too quickly were moist with the warm liquid that had seeped through her torn shirt. She wasn't sure how much more time she had anymore. She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus, to figure out where she was or what her chances of any kind of survival were.

The music. The fourth song on the CD had been playing, which meant that she had at least been running for fifteen minutes or so, probably even something closer to twenty. That meant that she'd probably covered a distance of two miles, maybe two-and-a-half at best, given her physical state. Sure, the adrenaline had certainly given her a boost in endurance and speed, but the deep gash near her abdomen definitely held her back more than she wanted to believe. She'd figured out ages ago, judging by the time that passed any time he'd left the house to go grocery shopping, that the nearest town probably wasn't any closer than five miles away. That gave her another three miles or so to travel on foot, and no matter how desperate she was to find help, she wasn't confident that she would be able to make it that far.

She let out a shaky breath, telling herself that she  _needed_  to find herself some sort of help and there was no other option, then began to run again. He would be coming back in no time, making his way back down the road. Knowing him, he would probably keep searching all night, and she knew that she wasn't going to get quite so lucky at hiding from him again. She could try running through the woods, sure, but she knew that she would only wind up getting lost or tripped up, neither of which would help her in any way. She needed to get to town, she needed to find some sort of civilization. There was  _no_  other option. She wasn't going to let it end this way.

She didn't know how much time had passed by the time she collapsed. It was like one minute she was running as fast as she could, and the next minute she was suddenly on the ground, gasping for air. God, she was lightheaded. The blood-loss, the running, the emotion, and her physical state accounted for her dizziness, but now it was almost like she was losing time. She couldn't really remember falling, and the world was practically a blur. She turned her head to the side, trying to suck in a deep breath, and everything seemed to move slowly. She brought a hand to her head, trying to calm herself down and to make herself more alert. It was like the times when she'd had too much to drink, or the times when he'd been frustrated enough to force pills down her throat, except this time it wasn't alcohol or drugs that were causing her disorientation. It was her injuries, her exhaustion, and her fear.

More time passed, but every minute seemed to merge together. She suddenly grew dimly aware of the light before her that started to grow brighter and brighter. She squinted at it as it seemed to get closer to her, confusion filling her senses. It took until the light stopped growing for her to focus on what was in front of her, and as soon as the realization hit her, she was panicking.

Headlights. It was headlights. She didn't bother to acknowledge the make of the vehicle or the fact that two lights were shining right on her. She was suddenly convinced that it was  _him,_  too disoriented to formulate any kind of logic, or even to consider that maybe it was someone else. She was too weak to stand, so instead, she just backed away as hurriedly as possible, pushing herself backwards with her hand and feet, her eyes wide and fearful as she stared right into the light.

A figure, dark due to the backlighting, appeared in front of those bright, accusing lights, and her breathing grew heavy. She didn't even have the common sense to recognize that the silhouette was too petite to be his. All she knew was that she was running away, and that he was looking for her, and that was enough to convince her that she wasn't safe in this moment.

"No, no, no," she breathed, terrified and lacking all logic. A soft voice seemed to echo in response, but she paid it no attention. "Please, don't," she begged, her voice both a whisper and a whimper.

That same soft, tentative voice bounced in her ears and she felt her panic rising as the figure came closer, just a foot or two away from her. She pleaded once more for him to leave, she even murmured an apology in the hopes that doing so would grant her some mercy, but the silhouette got even closer. The figure crouched down, then and she was practically hyperventilating as she braced herself for a punch, or a slap, or any other form of violence. Then, to her absolute confusion, she felt soft skin against both sides of her face, and she knew that something was wrong. Something wasn't what it seemed. The soft voice from before spoke once more, and somehow it calmed her down enough that she could break out, only slightly, from her fearful daze. It took her a few seconds, but she focused enough on the face in front of hers to recognize that it was that of a woman.

When she realized that it wasn't  _him,_  she snapped out of her confusion even more, and her breathing seemed to quicken once more as the adrenaline built up inside of her. Someone was there, someone had found her, but she wasn't safe yet. She needed to be off of that road before he came back, she needed help.

"Shh, shh, I'm not going to hurt you," the woman spoke, her voice gentle and concerned at the same time. "It's okay, it's okay, just breathe."

She made eye-contact with the woman, her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed heavily.

"Help," she rasped out. She shut her jaw tightly, closed her eyes for half a second, and then opened them again. She wasn't near as disoriented as she had been just moments ago, but she was still losing blood and she was still incredibly lightheaded. She also knew that he would likely be driving back down the road in no time, and if he were to see her there, he would undoubtedly kill the other woman, and even her, if it came down to it.

The woman snaked and arm under hers, apparently knowing instantly that she would be unable to stand on her own, and helped her up. She helped her to the car, then helped her into the passenger seat before quickly making her way to the driver's seat. She closed her eyes, attempting to calm herself down enough that she might actually stand a chance at survival, making no attempt to hear the soft voice that was once more speaking to her. She was too hurt, lightheaded, and panicked to listen to whatever was being said to her. Soon enough, though, the car was in motion, she recognized that the woman had said something about a hospital, and her fear died down slightly. The chances of him finding her were now much, much slimmer, and if luck was on her side, she might have even been given the ticket to survival.

"My name's Clarke," the woman spoke a moment later once she had calmed herself down enough to breathe more normally and to ease the dizziness. "I need you to try to stay awake for me, alright?"

Lexa turned her head tiredly to the side, blinking her eyes so that they were half-open. God, she was tired. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and now that she'd actually been given the chance to take some sort of rest, it was difficult for her even to keep her eyes open. She knew that the woman -Clarke- was right though. Even if the stranger wouldn't say it out right, Lexa knew exactly what the woman was thinking. Lexa's chances of survival would be much, much lower if she were to give into the overwhelming exhaustion.

She just nodded, her eyes resting on the woman. She had blonde hair that fell just below her shoulders and smooth, fairly-pale skin. Something about the woman filled Lexa with a feeling that bordered safety, something that the brunette hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Maybe it was the woman's voice, or the gentle way that she'd placed her hands on Lexa's face when she'd found her, or the way see seemed genuinely concerned for Lexa, a complete stranger. Or maybe, and more realistically, it was the fact that she was taking Lexa to the hospital, away from danger. Whatever it was, Lexa's fears were somehow almost entirely replaced with relief and even -just slightly- peace.

Clarke glanced quickly over to Lexa, and the brunette's lips parted slightly at just how blue the blonde's eyes seemed to be. Lexa wasn't sure whether it was her blood-loss or her own damn mind, but those eyes, while they were only visible for a second or two, instantly had her captivated. The blonde's expression was concerned, and she caught a glimpse of pity there too. While normally she would've been offended by pity and have spoken her mind about it, she wound up feeling more insecure than anything. She didn't doubt that she looked bad -horrendous, even. She couldn't remember the last time she'd looked in a mirror, but Lexa knew for a fact that there were a handful of visible bruises and that her clothes were tattered and dirty. She didn't even want to know what the blonde might have been thinking about her. The blood was probably staining her shirt wouldn't have made her look any better either.

Clarke's eyes returned to the road as Lexa looked down, once again concerned about her injury. She furrowed her brow when she saw the towel that was being held against her left side, held in place by some sort of bandage that was wrapped around her waist. It took her a moment to put the pieces together as she wondered how she hadn't even noticed that the blonde had tended to her injury. She must have been more 'out of it' than she'd realized whenever the woman had helped her into the car.

"What's your name?" Clarke asked, clearly attempting to keep her tone natural for Lexa's own reassurance. The brunette knew what she was doing, and she was grateful that the blonde was trying to keep her awake in such a casual way.

"Lexa," she mumbled tiredly, her head turned to the side and her eyes resting on Clarke.

"Lexa," the blonde nodded, the name rolling smoothly off her tongue. "That's a pretty name," she spoke with a small smile. "I like it."

The brunette couldn't help but let out a single, quiet chuckle. She always found it somewhat odd when people claimed to think that a name is 'nice.' She always thought of names to be just that. Names. Maybe it was different for mothers, for parents who had to pick out an identity for their coming children. But when others claimed to appreciate a particular name, Lexa always assumed that it was the kind of response that people give to make a situation less awkward or to just to show some kindness toward the other person. There was something about the way Clarke said it, along with the small, subtle smile and the way her eyes lightly lit up, that gave Lexa a different impression. Clarke seemed genuine, and Lexa couldn't quite pin down what it was, but she felt almost like she recognized the blonde in the seat next to her. It was like they should have been familiar with each other -almost like there was some strange, underlying connection between the two strangers.

She shut her eyes for a moment, shaking her head softly to herself. She was going crazy, she figured. She didn't know the woman next to her, and there was no reason why some stranger should have had any sort of effect on her, especially now. The brunette blamed her previous thoughts on the exhaustion, the loss of blood, and the malnutrition and dehydration that she'd grown accustomed to. She was just out of it.

Lexa sighed quietly, turning her head so that she was looking out the windshield at the road. After what must have been twenty minutes or so, there were no long trees on either side of the road. Instead, their surroundings were much more urban, apartments, townhouses, stores, and other buildings bordering the road. A few miles ahead, Lexa could make out a few skyscrapers that she didn't recognize at all. She swallowed the knot in her throat, glancing around at the area that they were driving through. She didn't recognize anything. She had no idea where they were.

"Where are we?" Lexa asked, her voice cracking slightly. Suddenly, she could feel the fear consuming her once more. She really had no idea as to where she was at all.

"We're only a few more minutes away from the hospital," Clarke replied. Lexa didn't miss the way the she glanced nervously down at the now-red towel on Lexa's side as she spoke. The blonde had been doing that every minute or two since they'd been in the car. Lexa's expression faltered when Clarke didn't realize what she really meant. The blonde's eyes moved up to Lexa's, and her concern grew when she saw the almost-distraught expression on Lexa's face.

"No," Lexa tried again. "I mean  _where are we?"_


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke pulled the car up just outside of the trauma bay, where the ambulances usually pull in to drop off patients. Lexa was sitting in the passenger seat of the vehicle, her eyelids seeming to droop more and more with each passing second. The woman's fatigue was now setting in, and she appeared to be much less alert than she had been a few minutes beforehand. Maybe it was because of the sudden shock of learning that she was in a city completely unfamiliar to her, or maybe it was because the shock brought on by her injuries was now fading. Regardless of the reason, the brunette looked like she was struggling to stay awake, and Clarke could feel her own concern growing every time she noted the stranger's disheveled, and somewhat mutilated, appearance.

What in the world has this woman been put through?

Clarke shook her head lightly as she pushed the gear into 'park.' She could wonder those things later. Now wasn't the time to figure out the cause of the injuries. Now was the time to figure out the extent of those injuries. From what Clarke could observe, the wound on Lexa's side was the injury in need of the most attention. Based off of the woman's external appearance, though, Clarke could figure that running a few scans and checking for any head or internal injuries would be vital as well, just in case.

The blonde practically jumped out of the car, moving quickly to the passenger door. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she saw the handful of doctors who were already making their way from emergency entrance over to Clarke's vehicle. A few minutes before they'd reached the hospital, she'd called the nurse who typically worked at the desk during these hours and explained the situation as best as she could. When she noticed that all of the approaching doctors were well-trained rather than interns or younger residents, Clarke made a mental note to thank Harper later on. That nurse was a god-send.

Clarke reached across Lexa and popped the seatbelt off, and her concern only grew when Lexa didn't even react to the fact that they were now at the hospital. Instead, her half-closed eyes just followed Clarke's movements. The woman's exhaustion was clearly extreme, and Clarke wasn't sure how the brunette was still even managing to stay conscious. Behind the fatigue, though, Clarke could still see the film of fear in the brunette's eyes.

"You're gonna be okay, Lexa" Clarke promised quietly as she brought one arm under Lexa's legs and the other behind her back. She knew that it was wrong to promise the woman anything so extreme, but something compelled Clarke to reassure the woman as best as possible. "We're gonna help you."

Clarke then lifted the woman, hoisting her out of the vehicle and gently but hastily turning around to the three alert doctors who were waiting there with an empty stretcher beside them. Lexa's only response to the sudden movement was a weak, pained groan, and as Clarke set her down on the stretcher, the two made eye-contact for a moment. Lexa's eyes were almost pleading, and, had the situation not been so emergent, Clarke probably would have asked the brunette if there was something she could do to help the suffering stranger. Time was of the essence, though, and Clarke knew better than to attempt some sort of conversation with the woman.

"We need to get her hooked up to a monitor now," Clarke looked up and ordered professionally, her tone leaving no room for questioning as they began to push the stretcher toward the building. "She's got a deep laceration on her lower-left abdomen requiring immediate attention; based on the amount of bleeding, it looks like there may be a punctured organ. Call for an OR to be prepped, and page Neuro to run a CT scan. She was disoriented when I found her, so I want to check her for any kind of brain damage." She glanced apprehensively down to Lexa's abdomen as they pushed the stretcher down the hallway. "If I'm right about the depth of that wound, she's going to need immediate surgery."

When they got to the intersection in the hallway, the doctors nodded, aware that Clarke was finished with her orders. They quickly began to head left, and Clarke's eyes widened in light shock when she felt a weak grip around her wrist. She looked down to Lexa, whose tired eyes held tears.

"Please don't leave," she begged weakly.

Clarke, not knowing what to tell the brunette, stood there dumbly for a moment. She was surprised that the woman seemed so desperate for her to stay by her side. It's probably because I'm the only person in the whole damn city that she's even interacted with in any way, Clarke told herself, trying to find some sort of logical explanation. The other three doctors waited apprehensively, unsure of whether they should keep going or not. After a few seconds, Clarke gave Lexa's hand a light squeeze, hoping that she could -in some way- reassure the woman.

"I have to," Clarke replied softly. "But you're in good hands, Lexa, and I'll be back as soon as possible. You're gonna be alright. Okay?" It was an empty promise. Clarke knew that. It was foolish and unprofessional of her to assure a badly-injured patient that everything would be fine, but Clarke felt the need to say whatever was necessary to help the stranger.

The brunette's features fell slightly, her expression a mix of worry, pain, and now even disappointment. She started to make an attempt at sitting up, like she was going to ask Clarke once more to stay, but as she began to strain her body more, her face twisted with pain. She let out a loud groan, grimacing as she fell back onto the stretcher. Clarke gave the waiting doctors a stern nod and they immediately started pushing the stretcher quickly down the hall to the left.

"Niylah," Clarke gently grabbed the arm of the female resident as the others kept going. Clarke trusted her the most out of the others in the group, and she knew that the woman would follow any instructions that were given to her. Niylah turned around, her eyes curious. "Page Jaha," Clarke spoke in a quieter tone. "I'm not sure how extensive those injuries are, and I want him in on this... Just in case."

Niylah nodded in understanding, beginning to turn away, but Clarke spoke up once more. "And Niylah?" The other woman turned her head to Clarke, eyebrows raised. "Page me as soon as there are any updates." Clarke's tone was serious. "I don't care if it's minor or if it's critical. Page me."

Niylah replied with a quick "of course" before jogging down the hallway after the other doctors, and Clarke let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through her hair as she leaned back against the wall for a brief moment. She wasn't even sure how to process everything that had just happened within the last five hours.

Her mind flashed back to the previous events of the day, and she let out a shaky breath, shaking her head. She clenched her jaw as she tried to compose herself. She wasn't even supposed to be back at the hospital yet, and here she was, even more of a mess than she had been when she'd left shortly beforehand. She took in a steadier breath, opening her eyes as she swallowed the knot in her throat. She was a doctor. She was professional. She had to be professional, under all circumstances. With her mind made up regarding her next move, she set off down the hallway with determined, wide strides.

Two minutes later, she was pushing open the door to the Chief of Surgery's office, not even caring to knock before making her entrance.

"I know that you told me to take a leave of absence," she spoke boldly, shutting the door behind her. "But I know for a fact that I can be of better use here, in this hospital, right now."

Had she been any other doctor, she would've been suspended on the spot for speaking to a superior that way. Had she been any other doctor, she wouldn't have had the nerve to burst into the office without even asking for permission. But she wasn't just any other doctor, and the chief wasn't just any other superior.

"Clarke," Abby spoke, surprise evident in her voice as she rose from the leather seat behind her desk. She gave her daughter an incredulous look, somewhat concerned and somewhat frustrated by her daughter's brash entrance. "I thought that you'd left the hospital ages ago, what are you still doing here?"

"I did leave," Clarke asserted as she crossed her arms over her chest, stepping forward and looking the older woman in the eyes. "And then-"

Abby sighed heavily, interrupting her daughter as she gave the younger woman a dismissive wave of the hand.

"You know what Clarke, no. I don't want to hear it right now. My instructions were clear before you left this room earlier." She stepped in front of her desk, her exhaustion evident, and left Clarke no time to respond before she continued to speak. "You are not permitted to continue working in this hospital, Clarke. You are suspended, until I say otherwise.

'If you really want to work so badly, then do as I say, Clarke." There was some exasperation in voice, and her tone got softer as she let out a quiet sigh. Her eyes were almost pitiful as she shook her head. "Go home, get some rest. See a counselor, then figure out what your next step is. Then, when I see that you are ready to get back to the operating table, I'll sign off on all the papers. But right now, you don't work here."

Clarke clenched her jaw, holding back some of the words that she was ready to fire at her mother. She'd heard the speech earlier on, and for a short amount of time, she'd actually convinced herself to do what her mother wanted. But as soon as she'd seen that woman in the road, clearly battered by somebody, Clarke found herself refusing to listen to her mother's instructions once again. She was a surgeon. She wasn't supposed to be 'resting,' and as much as Abby would argue her on it, Clarke didn't need to see a counselor. She was fine.

Clarke threw her arms into the air, taking a step forward, leaving the shadows of the back of the office. "Mom, how many times am I going to have to tell you that I don't need a freaking shrink? I'm fin-"

Abby's eyes widened in shock and worry, and before Clarke could even begin to realize what was going on, the older woman was moving quickly toward her.

"Oh my god, Clarke, honey, what happened?" She asked quickly, their discussion seemingly forgotten. She placed one hand on Clarke's arm, and the other one went to Clarke's shirt. "Are you okay? What-"

Upon looking down to whatever Abby was so concerned about, Clarke realized what her mother was suddenly so panicked for. Her blouse, which had initially been a shade of off-white, was now dark red across the chest. Clarke hadn't even noticed the blood earlier, and she supposed that her mother must not have noticed it right away because she'd been too busy lecturing her. Clarke's frustration almost immediately vanished as she attempted to assuage her mother's worry. Sure, she was still aggravated that her own mother was suspending her from work, but she could also sense the near-panic that now enveloped her mother. Abby Griffin was a passionate doctor, but she was an even more passionate mother, and Clarke knew that her mother was probably imaging the worst scenarios possible through her mind.

"Mom, Mom," Clarke spoke sharply but gently as she placed a hand on Abby's shoulder. "It's not mine, Mom," she insisted strongly. Abby's eyes met hers, relief now present alongside apprehension. "I'm fine," Clarke asserted once more, keeping eye-contact with her mother. "It's not mine."

Abby let out a heavy breath, her features flooded with exhausted relief.

"I was driving home, and there was awoman lying on the street," Clarke began to explain. "Calling an ambulance would have taken too much time, and-" Before she could even finish, Abby cut her off.

"And that's why you're here," Abby nodded, her voice quieter and understanding, yet still laced with concern. She was calmer now, but it was clear that she was still somewhat anxious. She let out a tired sigh, running a hand down her face before looking back at her daughter. "But how do you think staying here is in anyone's best interest, Clarke? I'm sure you saved her life by getting her here, but you're not going to be anymore help, hun. You need to go home."

The blonde recoiled somewhat at the harsh comment. Clarke was a damn good doctor, and for her mother to even suggest that Clarke's presence would be anything other than beneficial to an injured patient was absolutely absurd.

"I know you don't want to hear it," Abby continued, no longer sugar coating her words as much as she had been, "but you being here is only going to have a negative impact." Clarke's jaw dropped. That one hurt. "You're a mess, Clarke, and while a month or two ago you would have been the best surgeon to handle a hit-and-run victim, you aren't right now. Right now? Right now you are a liability."

Clarke didn't know how to feel. Her mother's words cut like a knife. Abby Griffin was typically a calm and collected person. Even with doctors and residents and nurses who weren't related to her, Abby wasn't one to put down one of her staff. Sure, she could be harsh sometimes. She was known to be serious and stern, but she was also known to be open-hearted. She was known as an understanding chief, an empathetic superior. Even at home during Clarke's childhood, Abby would never say anything to bring down her daughter. Abby was only ever encouraging and motivating. Sure, she urged Clarke to be the best she could be, but she would never say or do anything to make Clarke believe that she wasn't capable of anything. She would never say anything to suggest that Clarke didn't matter. But here she was, labeling Clarke as an inconvenience. An impediment. And that stung.

At the same time, though, Clarke was fuming. As much as her mother's words hurt, Clarke didn't believe them whatsoever. Clarke knew that she wasn't a 'liability.' She knew that she was more than capable of helping any patient in that hospital, and even if her mother couldn't see it, she knew that she was overwhelmingly beneficial to the majority of the hospital's occupants. Her mother was wrong, and entirely out of line for what she'd said.

She took a deep breath and settled on her decision to not even react to Abby's harsher words. Instead, she kept her focus on what mattered most at the moment: the woman. Lexa, Clarke reminded herself of the stranger's name.

"I don't think she's a hit-and-run victim." Clarke's voice was devoid of the hurt and anger that was boiling inside of her. If Abby was so desperate for 'professionalism,' than that would be what Clarke would give her from now on, in and out of the hospital.

Abby furrowed her brow, somewhat frustrated and confused about the fact that Clarke didn't even move to defend herself, but also interested in what her daughter had to say.

"I didn't get the chance to take a very good look at the extent of her injuries because I was in such a hurry," Clarke explained in a neutral tone, "but she had a significant amount of bruising from what I could see. A few lacerations, too. She was disoriented, had know idea where she was or even which city this is. She has a deep cut on her side, a stab wound maybe."

Abby's expression fell slightly, pity evident in her features. "Abuse," she muttered quietly.

"Maybe," Clarke shrugged. "There's no way to know right now. I told the residents to prep an OR and to get some scans done. Niylah has also been instructed to page me with any updates, and-"

"You can remain updated on the case," Abby interrupted, looking somewhat hesitant. "But I don't want you operating, Clarke-"

"Mom, I'm not a danger to this hospital," Clarke asserted, anger flowing from her words. "I am-"

"It is not up for discussion," Abby cut in coldly. "I shouldn't even be letting you stay, so before you make me change my mind, let me finish my sentence." Clarke bit her tongue, knowing that it was for the best. "You may remain updated on the case," Abby started again, "but you will not be operating. This will not be your case, and you will not be making any medical decisions. This woman is not going to be your patient, and if you even so much as attempt to overstep the boundaries that I am generously setting for you, then you will be met with extensive consequences. You can stick around, you can remain updated on the woman's case, but until I say otherwise, you are not an active surgeon in this hospital and you will not take part in or interfere with her care. You may observe and oversee the case, but you have no say in her care. You are not her doctor."

Clarke clenched her jaw. As much as she wanted to argue with her mother, she knew that there would be no budging the older woman's decision, and she knew that she was probably lucky to receive what her mother was allowing her. So she nodded, muttered a "thank you," before turning to walk out the door, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Clarke," Abby's voice cut through the silence just as Clarke reached the doorway. Her tone was gentle, even sympathetic. Clarke looked over her shoulder, already having an idea of what her mother was going to say to her. "I know why you want to be involved in this case," she spoke softly. "I'm not going to stop you from helping the woman find the help that she needs, but just... just don't get too attached, okay? Don't put yourself through it again."

Clarke knew that her mother meant the best in her words. She knew what her mother was referring to, even if a decent time ago they had both come to the same silent, mutual decision that they wouldn't say those words out loud -that was too painful. So Clarke just nodded, giving her mother a small, sad, appreciative smile. Regardless of how much Abby wanted Clarke to protect herself, though, the blonde had every intention of doing anything she could for the stranger. She was going to help this woman find help, and she was going to do so before it would become too late. No matter the risks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to update. I lost touch with the story because I wasn't sure how I wanted this chapter to go. It's been hard to write in general lately. I managed to find the motivation today, though, and I really like the route that this chapter went. I know that there are a lot of questions left unanswered after this chapter, and I promise that we'll get to those answers in due time. I have a lot of hope for this story, though. It will be a bit of a rough ride before we'll be able to get to any sort of 'happy ending,' but I promise it'll be worth it. I'm excited to continue, so I hope you guys can stick with it too.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Harper," Clarke spoke softly as she approached one of the nurses' stations. The woman at the desk looked up and offered Clarke a small smile.

"Hey Clarke, what can I do for you?" her friend asked.

"I'm looking for that Jane Doe I brought in a few hours ago," Clarke started. "She was taken in for emergency surgery, Jaha was the head surgeon. Niylah just paged me to let me know that the patient's been given a room, and I was hoping you'd be able to tell me where to find her?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Harper nodded, turning her attention the computer monitor in front of her. A moment passed as she typed some of the information down, then she looked back up at Clarke. "Ah, here we go. I have a Jane Doe in room 203 with an abdominal injury, is that who you're looking for?"

Clarke gave Harper a grateful smile. "That's her. You're a god-send Harper, thank you so much."

The nurse gave Clarke a soft smile and a nod, and as Clarke turned to walk briskly down the hallway, she made a mental note of how appreciative she was for nurses like Harper. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick message to Niylah about showing her Lexa's medical chart. Her mother might not have wanted her to be working on Lexa's case, but Clarke was determined to stay as updated on the stranger's condition as possible.

When she got to the brunette's room, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and stepped through the doorway. The sight before her wasn't uncommon -IVs and wires hooked up to a patient, an oxygen mask over the patient's mouth- but seeing that brunette in such a condition sent chills down Clarke's spine, and she couldn't pin-point why. She didn't even know the woman's last name. Why did this woman's condition have such a strong effect on her? Maybe it was for the same reason that her mother believed -maybe it was because victims of abuse always managed to get to Clarke. For some reason, though, the doctor couldn't help but believe that there was more to it than that. There was something else about this woman -something else about Lexa- that made Clarke's heart break when she entered that hospital room.

In the dim lighting of the hospital room, Clarke could better make out the bruises and cuts on Lexa's skin than she could when they'd been in the car. She stepped toward the side of the hospital bed slowly, her brow furrowing as she made a note of every mark on the brunette's skin. One of Lexa's eyes was somewhat swollen, and there was a dark red ring under her other eye, likely the remnant of a recent black-eye that she'd suffered from. There was a cut on her forehead as well, which was now held together by medical tape. The left side of her face was worse than the right, with a darkening bruise on her cheekbone and another gash along her jawline. She had a split lip which was already healing, giving Clarke the idea that she'd been given that injury at least a few days ago. There were a few smaller cuts on the side of her face as well, but they were minor and would heal quickly enough without a trace. The bruising on the other side of her face was much less intense and seemed much more faded away, indicating that she'd suffered those injuries some time beforehand, maybe a week or two ago. Clarke's eyes scanned Lexa's arm that had been left outside of the hospital blanket so that it could remain hooked up to an IV drip. Bruises, some old and some more recent, practically climbed up the brunette's arm. Even the woman's knuckles were red and scratched up, leaving practically no part of her unmarked by whatever monster had been hurting her.

"Clarke."

The blonde nearly jumped out of her own skin at the sound of Niylah's voice. She let out a heavy sigh, placing a hand on her chest, when she turned to see her friend standing a few feet away. She'd been so lost in scrutinizing Lexa's injuries that she'd managed to slip into her own world of concern.

"Niylah, sorry," Clarke breathed out, her heartrate calming down. "You have the charts?"

"Right here," the resident nodded, holding a tablet out to Clarke, who grabbed it and listened to Niylah as she scrolled through the files. "Her abdominal injury wasn't as serious as expected," Niylah explained. "Jaha and I were able to stop the bleeding easily enough. Thankfully, none of her major organs were torn, and no major arteries had been hit. Most of the bleeding was just the natural result of a wound like that. Given the number of external injuries she seemed to have, we decided to run a full-body x-ray. We found a few old fractures that seemed to have healed on their own over time, including a few ribs, but there was nothing for us to treat or fix there. I had neuro run a head CT as well to look for any brain bleeds, and nothing showed up there. She has a pretty bad concussion, but it's nothing that should present any permanent damage at all."

Clarke nodded, biting her lip as she scrolled through all of the files on the tablet. Everything that Niylah said came as a relief to the doctor. No permanent damage was good. No damaged internal organs was good. She rocked her jaw as she continued to look at all of the information that she'd been presented with. A full recovery was expected, but the brunette would have to be careful. Sure, none of her internal organs were punctured by whatever had penetrated her side, but any abdominal injury that requires surgery would take some time to heal, and it would be painful as well.

"That's good," Clarke nodded thoughtfully, double-checking some files. "Better than I would have expected when I brought her in here... Thank you, Niylah."

She handed the tablet back to the resident, and Niylah looked curiously at Clarke. "Who is she, anyway?" she asked, nodding toward the unconscious brunette. "I mean, she's marked down as a Jane Doe, but you must know her if you brought her in."

Clarke shook her head. "I found her on the road and brought her in." She furrowed her brow and frowned slightly as she glanced back to the brunette, then looked back to Niylah. "Her name is Lexa, though... see if you can get one of the nurses at the front desk to change the name on her files. At the very least, this woman deserves for us to know her real name."

The resident nodded before leaving the room, and Clarke let out a soft sigh as she walked back over to Lexa's bedside. She wished that she could do more than just stand around, but even if she were in the position to be making decisions about the patient's care, there wouldn't have been anything more that she could have done. All that she could do now was be there for the woman, even if they were total strangers. There was something about his brown-haired, green-eyed stranger that filled Clarke with some strange necessity to help her, and she would do everything in her power as a doctor and as a  _person_ to help this woman.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I was going to split this chapter into two parts, but I decided that it makes more sense just to use this as kind of a short "filler-chapter." The next few updates will be more intense, and I really hope that you'll stick with me through this. I know it's been a while since I've last updated, but I promise I'm still working on this story and on F&S. Anyway, please feel free to leave any of your thoughts in a comment, and have a good spring


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